Chapter 80 - Cinnabar Labs III: Unown

“For you, I would cross the threshold.

And for you, I will find these elusive beings.

These… Unown.”

Celeste read it aloud, her voice quieter than usual. Somehow, the words felt heavy, like they had a weight to them. And as she spoke, her shadow coiled tighter around her arm, shivering. That made her stop. Shy was spooked, and if the ghost was scared, that couldn’t be good.

Still, she forced a laugh, shaking her elbow as if to jostle the fear away. “Fuji spelled ‘unknown’ wrong,” Celeste tried to sound casual. “Guy’s got a PhD and can’t even spell right, huh?” But Shy wasn’t buying it. The ghost didn’t relax one bit, and just lightly pulled on her sleeve. She pressed on anyway, exaggerating the syllables. “Un… known. Un-own. Should I even say it different?”

Each time she said it, Shy’s eyes flared, brighter, sharper, triggered. It was just a word. Why all the fuss? She paused, at least, waiting for Shy to calm down before she continued speaking.

“So, I’m guessing that’s what we’re calling the eye things?” She sighed. “Fuji brought them here, clearly. But that’s the end of the journal, and we still don’t know what actually happened.”

She glanced at her ghost, who had slunk halfway into the wall, head shaking but eyes narrowed, like they were watching something she couldn’t see. Celeste’s stomach knotted.

“Shy?” she whispered. The moment she spoke, their eyes snapped wide, panic flooding them as they wrapped tighter around her arm, pulling at her, frantic now. “What? What is it?” She didn’t really need to ask. Damn it. “Jenny? How close?”

No reply came. Not right away, anyway. Shy only kept on pulling and making gestures and shapes with the shadows she couldn’t really understand. It got to the point that they grabbed her hand and began moving it around randomly over the pages of the journal. Celeste blinked. Not randomly… they were pointing to specific letters.

“This is like an Ouija board, Shy. Heh. You’re really letting you ghost show, buddy.”

She snorted at it.

It really wasn’t the time, but Celeste couldn’t help thinking back to that time she messed with an Ouija board in school. There’d been this rumour about the academy being haunted by something worse than the usual Ghost-types lurking in the towers. Totally unrelated to the fact Lyra was running for student body president that week. (Okay, maybe Celeste started the rumour.) Anyway, when it gained traction, her parents just so happened to bring home an Ouija board from one of their trips. (Not really—she’d bought it for the occasion.)

So, at recess, the “kid whose family dabbled in weird old stuff” conveniently knew how to talk to ghosts by using the Ouija board. (Shut up, Lyra, it makes sense.) The Hammerlocke Spectre made its grand declaration: it had returned to see its chosen one, Lyra, crowned president. Plot twist! Everyone freaked out so much, no one voted for Lyra. What. A. Shame.

And for the record, no. It’s not wrong to pull an elaborate prank on your bully. Detention was totally worth it.

Shy’s grip squeezed, forcing her mind to snap back to the present as her fingers traced the letters on the page. “W. R. O. N. G.” Celeste read it out loud, and the ghost kept going. “Wrong. More power. Close. Jenny.”

Celeste’s stomach twisted. “This Ouija thing isn’t all that fun,” she muttered, her voice hollow now. “How long?”

Shy floated back, raising a closed fist. That meant zero.

“Great…” Just great. Celeste nudged Pat awake, but her Slowpoke needed his time—time which they didn’t have.

She shot up, darting back to the corridor and to a window over on the other side of the building—that’s where Shy said the presence was stronger. Outside, in the dim light, she could just make out Jenny, or rather, the thing that looked like Officer Jenny, creeping closer to the building.

Also, why was Shy so rattled?

“It’s okay we can—”

Outrun Fake Jenny?

All this time they’d been using the tram to get away quicker. But the tram was gone—at least the one close by. Could she steal a car? Hotwire it, like in the movies? Never mind that she had no clue how to do that. Or how to drive, for that matter. And, also, she hadn’t even seen a car nearby.

Celeste rushed back toward the conference room, ready to grab Pat and get the hell out.

“No tram, no car,” she muttered under her breath. Maybe there was a bike somewhere? Or they could run it to the next tram station… assuming it still existed.

Ugh. Focus. Exit routes? Access points for Jenny? That was the priority.

She glanced into the rooms as she passed, half-expecting Jenny to jump out of one. There was a second lift at the far end of the floor, three staircases, and a fire escape through Fuji’s office. The rooms themselves? Useless. A break room, a tiny reception, and storage closets filled with enough cleaning supplies to sterilise the region.

“Jenny could come at us from anywhere,” Celeste muttered, striding into the conference room where Pat looked a little more awake. “Let’s just—”

Her foot snagged on something, and Celeste yelped, stumbling over something by the door and crashing near her Slowpoke, who didn’t even twitch. Really? Not even a nudge? Actually… could he even lift her with his psychic powers? Questions for later.

She rubbed her shoulder for a bit, Shy already rushing her.

As she sat up, her eyes drifted to what had tripped her. Babs’ box of fireworks. Some had come off the box in her fall, and now colourful rockets and fuses scattered across the floor. She stared at them for a beat, her brain clicking.

“I think…” Celeste murmured, eyeing the “use outdoors only” label in one firework. Shy and Pat were watching her very intently. “Guys, I think I have a really bad idea.”

—*——*—

Pat hated this idea the most. And honestly? That was fair.

If things went wrong, he’d have to battle. And if they went wrong-er, he’d have to put out a fire.

“I know, bud,” Celeste muttered, splashing alcohol and bleach across the floor. The scent alone was burning her nostrils and making her head dizzy, but they were the only flammable things she’d found in under a minute. The fireworks were already set up at the end of the hallway, and the fuses soaked in half a bottle of alcohol. “It’s not exactly my best plan. But we can’t keep running forever.” She forced a smile. “Besides, we got rid of Fake-Joy. If those Unown-creeps don’t make more copies, we’ll be down two out of three on the fake people.”

She squeezed the last drop of bleach and tossed the bottle aside, pouring the rest of the alcohol toward the door of Fuji’s office. Her stomach churned as memories of being trapped in a burning building on Four Island flashed in her mind, but she shook them off for now. Shy’s steadying presence beside her helped. She glanced at the hole in the wall leading to the fire escape and took a deep, steadying breath.

Like she said. This was a terrible plan.

“Jenny can only come through this hallway,” Celeste said, trying to reassure herself. Pat rumbled in disagreement, but at least he wasn’t spraying her with Water Gun to knock sense into her. Which meant, maybe, this wasn’t her worst idea ever.

Or… maybe she’d just set the bar way too low.

She sighed. “One more thing, and you’re definitely not gonna like it.”

Pat narrowed his eyes, his tail twitching.

She pulled a lighter from her pocket, stepping back cautiously. “I’ll toss this, then dart for the fire escape. But I’ll have to call you—”

He yelped before she could finish.

“I’ll let you out as soon as the ground’s in range,” she said firmly, raising her voice. “Come on, Pat. I can’t run fast enough carrying you and you can’t run fast on your own.”

Pat’s scowl deepened, but Shy drifted closer to him, letting the shadows creep up his legs this time instead of Celeste’s. The ghost gave him a gentle tug, their eyes appearing, soft and calm. Pat stared into them, his rigid posture relaxing just a bit. Celeste had no idea if they were talking somehow, but something passed between them. With a resigned “Poo…” the Slowpoke trudged toward the door and placed himself in front of them.

His look back to her said more than just acceptance, though. She’d wait until the last second to recall him and then release him when the ground was close enough.

Celeste nodded. Now, they just had to wait.

The lighter clicked open in her right hand. Pat’s Pokéball sat ready in the other. Shy had climbed up to her knees but wasn’t pulling—pulling meant go, and that was only for when Jenny got close enough. Meanwhile, Pat’s psychic energy pulsed, ready to be released at any moment.

If this didn’t work, perhaps they could make a stand, anyway?

Seconds stretched. Celeste’s heart pounded in her chest, fingers itching to let the lighter go just to get it over with. But she held on. This had to be timed perfectly. Just like with Joy. Trap her, hit the right moment, and… well, hopefully no weirdness this time. Hopefully, blowing up was just as valid a way to get rid of those things.

Celeste’s pulse quickened as she set the lighter to life, holding her breath. Pat tensed, eyes wide, but Shy didn’t tug. Not yet.

And then, the tug came—sharp, shaky, urgent.

Now.

The lighter slipped from her fingers, tumbling down into the bleach-soaked floor. The flames caught instantly, roaring into a blazing inferno that lit up the hallway with an explosion of heat and fumes. Celeste staggered, momentarily disoriented. Shy yanked harder, and Pat let out a loud cry as he used his Confusion to shove the fire and smoke away from them. But beyond the flames, through the haze, Celeste saw it—a shadowy silhouette creeping toward them.

Jenny.

She didn’t wait to recall Pat like she was meant to. She slammed Pat’s Pokéball button just as she spun on her heel and sprinted for the hole in the wall. He vanished in a flash of red, but without his psychic pull protecting her, the noxious fumes clawed at her throat. The room spun as she reached the edge and glanced down—the jump looked a lot further than it had before ago, stretching on and on.

No time to think. She tumbled down, more than she jumped.

It wasn’t a graceful fall, and the landing knocked the wind out of her. She groaned as she scrambled to her knees, only to feel the fire escape sway violently beneath her. The metal groaned loudly under the strain.

Before she could get to her feet, Shy’s shadowy arms seized her with a strength they’d never shown before. No hesitation, no softness—just a pull. An explosion tore through the air above her, but the shadows were already closing in by then. Still, the shockwave hit, driving her down.

Down, down, down.

For a moment, it felt like she was drowning in the darkness until—clack!

She crashed onto the fire escape, three floors below. The metal clicked beneath the impact, cracking, trembling—ready to collapse at any second.

There was no time to waste.

Celeste sprang to her feet, aiming Pat’s Pokéball down at the ground as she dashed for the next flight of stairs. The structure groaned louder, tilting under her feet. It was all coming down, and fast.

Her first instinct was to stabilise the stairs. Could Pat hold them with Confusion? Not likely. Maybe Shy could—she tripped. A shadowy hole opened beneath her feet, too small to fall into, but enough to send her stumbling. She caught a glimpse of a few more flickering to life, only to fizzle out before they could grow larger than her fist.

“It’s alright, Shy,” Celeste panted as she forced herself back up. Pat’s wide eyes were fixed on her—he was bracing for the worst. “I’ve got another idea.” The panel beneath her feet wobbled dangerously. Two floors left and…

Whatever. This would do.

Celeste bit her lip and yelled, “Pat, slow me down!”

By the time the Slowpoke understood, she’d already leapt a few more stairs, vaulting over the railing. Worst that could happen? Broken leg. Maybe. The air rushed around her as she felt the weightlessness before she fell. A cry echoed beneath her. Come on, Pat. You wanted to slow me down a few days ago, remember? She didn’t say it out loud, but somehow, she knew he heard her.

As she grinned at him it was as if time stopped, and he squinted up at her, his expression saying loud and clear, This is not what I meant.

But that was her Pat. Not fast. Steadfast. His psychic energy caught her, wrapping her in an invisible hug that slowed her descent, and when Celeste’s feet touched the ground, she was as light as a feather.

“That was amazing!” she gasped, barely able to enjoy the moment before the groaning creak of metal snapped her back to reality. She grabbed Pat, pulling him close as they scrambled out of the way.

The fire escape collapsed with a deafening crash, taking half the wall with it. Dust and debris rained down, but they were far enough now.

They were safe. At least for this moment.

Together, they moved far enough away, the heat of the moment finally dying out. Celeste’s heart still hammered, but when she looked up, the night sky lit up with brilliant fireworks. Cinnabar red, bursting into flower-like shapes, some forming Pokémon outlines. A few even took the shape of Ledyba—Babs’ favourite, maybe?

What about that?

She chuckled softly. “Happy birthday, Babs.”

Pat nudged her, pretending to be annoyed, but his eyes gave him away every time.

“Sometimes we slow down, think things through. But other times? We’ve just gotta blow stuff up and jump off buildings. It’s all about balance,” Celeste smirked, trying to sound wise. She couldn’t help herself.

Pat sighed, plopping down beside her. And maybe it was her imagination, but he was definitely quicker with his reactions these days—he wouldn’t have rolled his eyes at her that fast a week ago. Celeste sat down next to him, her fingers scratching his head gently, and together they watched the fireworks burst overhead. Shy hovered on the grass nearby, eyes also wide at the pretty colours in the sky.

For a moment, she thought maybe they could just stay here, watching the display forever.

That would’ve been nice, wouldn’t it?

—*——*—

The soft rustle of leaves was the first thing Celeste noticed. At first, she tried to convince herself it was nothing—just the wind, stirred by the lingering bursts of fireworks and explosions. But Shy, who had calmed a little since they escaped the building, stretched out to investigate. The rustling grew louder, shifting into a low rumble. Celeste turned her head, frowning, as her gaze snapped to the ground. Tiny pebbles were trembling beside her.

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Another firework exploded, casting flashes of shadow and light across the grass. She straightened up, just in time to see Shy sliding back toward her and Pat, their shadowy form rippling under the glow of the sky.

“Jenny?” Celeste’s voice wavered. Shy shook their head, tugging at her shirt. The wind picked up, the rumbling grew deeper. Even Pat shuffled a few steps forward, squinting as if he could sense what was coming.

“Shy, what is it?” she asked, but there was no answer—just more frantic pulling. Something was wrong. They couldn’t stay here.

More fireworks lit up the sky as Celeste stood, and behind them, another explosion echoed from the smouldering Cinnabar Labs building. But that wasn’t what was causing the ground to shake.

No, it was something else.

In the blood-red light of the fireworks, Jude stepped forward.

Celeste’s heart lurched.

Jude wasn’t alone.

On either side of him, strange creatures wriggled and blinked in and out of existence—Unown. Dozens of them. Their bulging eyes and twig-like bodies shifted and hovered with eerie calm. This time, they didn’t bother to hide. And yet… from up close, they seemed almost harmless. Celeste thought she could break one with her bare hands.

But there were more.

A lot more.

The Unown formed a circle over Jude’s head, spinning slowly at first. The circles spun faster, then another ring formed within the first. And then a third outside. Unnerved, Celeste’s eyes darted back to Jude, standing completely still, then to the creatures once more. Their circles spun faster and faster, like a gyroscope, where the wheels twisted in all directions as well as in on itself.

The next firework exploded, but when the light flared, everything was… pristine. Cinnabar Labs stood untouched—no fire, no destruction, just… perfection.

Celeste’s stomach churned. She stared at the spinning Unown, wondering if the strange formation they made spelled out something—a message she couldn’t read. More importantly, she wondered if she could run. Or if they would tear her and her Pokémon apart like they did to the tram.

Shy wasn’t tugging at her leg anymore, but their dread-filled eyes were locked on the sky, unblinking. Pat, at least, had slipped into a battle stance.

“So now what?” Celeste whispered.

Jude still didn’t move. Another final firework lit up, casting a brief light on his face before the Unown snuffed it out, plunging them into the night.

“You’re worried,” Jude said, his voice calm, hollow.

“Very much,” she answered, suddenly feeling very tired of all this.

Jude’s head tilted slightly. “We enjoyed the fireworks,” he said. And it hit her then—his voice wasn’t just his own anymore. It was many. “You enjoyed them too.”

Celeste’s throat tightened. What was she supposed to say to that? “T-they were… pretty,” she managed, taking a step back. The Unown had closed in around her, tightening their circle.

“We can make more. Will that make your worry go away?”

Her mouth opened, but no words came. What the hell is going on? She swallowed hard. “If you make them, they won’t be real.”

Jude remained motionless, but the spinning Unown slowed. “They will be real. We will make them so.”

“W-Why?” Celeste’s voice cracked. She’d reasoned with Articuno, hadn’t she? Maybe she could reason with these things, too. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” Jude’s many voices echoed.

“Yeah. Why. Why doing this? Whatever this is.”

“Because reality is imperfect. Because humans worry, feel pain, and suffer when the cold of winter comes. But when you wish with all your heart for paradise, we make it so. We make the world perfect.”

Celeste shook her head. “But… this isn’t perfect. What about the people who like winter? What about the people who need to worry? Who need to feel things, the good as well as the bad, to make the world work?”

Jude’s face remained expressionless. “The wish was not theirs.”

“Wish? Was it Fuj—”

Suddenly, the Unown began to spin faster again, and this time it wasn’t just Jude’s voice that filled the air. It was dozens, maybe hundreds of voices, overlapping. Like a chant or a hymn.

“…Someone who worried…”

“…Someone who cried…”

“…Endless summers… endless smiles…”

“…Togetherness…”

“…Paradise…”

The flood of voices was suffocating, pressing down on her. Celeste clapped her hands over her ears, trying to shut them out, but they kept going, their words spinning faster and faster, like a vortex pulling her in.

“Shut up!” she screamed, and suddenly, silence.

The air went still, heavy with the weight of all those eyes on her.

“It’s… It’s not good if it isn’t real,” she said, her voice shaking. “People can’t possibly be happy like this. Not really.”

She almost felt hopeful in the moment of quiet that stretched between them. Like Articuno, the Unown would understand her… She would make them understand.

And then she hitched a breath when Jude finally spoke, his voice cold and singular. “There is something wrong with you,” he said.

A chuckle escaped her lips, surprising even herself. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” she muttered. Then her eyes narrowed. “But don’t you think this world needs a little wrong?”

Jude actually squinted at that. “No.”

“N-no?” She somehow didn’t expect no.

He said nothing, just extended a hand before him. A Pokéball materialised in his palm.

Did they… want to battle her?

The Unown suddenly began spinning again, the eerie hum returning. “We are the Codex of Creation,” they chanted in harmony this time. “We wrote light into this world. We are the language of the creator, and our words are. With many eyes, we see. You laugh, you cry, and now you want to tear apart the world we have made. Even your ghost cannot hide the truth in your heart. So tell us: if we give you a chance to fight, will you yield to the dream we’ve given? Or… shall we make it so you were never dreamt at all?”

Jude let the Pokéball slip from his fingers, and the spinning wheel above turned brighter—blinding. The ball never opened. It morphed, shifting into the shape of a Growlithe—the same one that Fake Jenny had with her earlier? Perhaps. But this was just another copy in the end.

Celeste shot a glance at Pat. He nodded.

“Get ready, bud. I don’t think we can afford to lose this one.”

—*——*—

The Unown swirled overhead, moving in perfect sync, like the gears of a machine locking into place. Shy’s movements mirrored the enemy’s, coiling tighter around Celeste’s leg, their trembling rippling against her skin each time the Unown drifted too close. Jude’s voice, cold and mechanical, still echoed in her ears—the latest command had been Agility followed by Flame Wheel—but the whole thing felt scripted and void.

Celeste clenched her fists, resisting the urge to shout something desperate. Scripted or not, she’d been waiting thirty agonising seconds for Pat’s Water Gun to hit the fiery blur of the Growlithe streaking around him. Speed was a problem they hadn’t solved yet—and now was really not the time for problems.

Her eyes tracked the flames trailing from the dog’s paws as it closed in on Pat again. The fire ring surrounding its body blazed hot as it charged headlong at her Slowpoke. Every muscle in Celeste’s body screamed at her to intervene, but she bit her lip hard, forcing herself to hold back. If he took the hit, he could have an opening.

Arceus, damn it. She hated to tell him to take the hit.

But Pat, warrior that he was, stood his ground. Hooves dug into the grass, unflinching as the Growlithe slammed into him. Flames licked at his side, scorching his short fur, but the Growlithe didn’t even pause—it just kept pushing forward, following its momentum as if the impact hadn’t happened.

Well, no complaints there.

“Disable it!” Celeste shouted.

For a moment, nothing happened. She almost called out for the move again, but stopped herself. Pat had heard her. He always did, even when he took his time to acknowledge it. This dynamic of theirs? Well, her part in it was to figure out the right timing, and his was to figure out how to make her bizarre ideas happen—not that Disable was bizarre.

“Increase the heat!” Jude called.

Too late, though. Pat’s eyes flashed, and just like that, the flames around the Growlithe flickered and died out.

She was kind of glad these Pokémon more or less acted and worked like real Pokémon.

“Tackle it away from you!” she yelled.

This time, Pat didn’t hesitate. He hurled himself at the Growlithe, the impact so fierce it sounded more like a Skull Bash than a Tackle. The fake dog barely reacted, though, and its blank expression remained unchanged. But Pat wasn’t thrown off by the lack of response. Nor was he dizzy, wobbly, or even slowed by the collision.

He was ready.

And as the Growlithe staggered back, Celeste’s next command came out without thinking.

“Push it away with Confusion! Keep it down!”

It wasn’t part of any grand plan—just instinct. But it was more than enough.

Pat’s body began to glow with psychic energy, the air around them humming with power. Blades of grass rose into the air, caught in the ripple of his move, as the battlefield pulsed under his control. The Growlithe tried to step forward, but its paws never touched the ground. It dangled mid-air, suspended in Pat’s psychic hold.

It was… well, helpless wasn’t the right word for it.

Most Pokémon would be flailing, scrambling, trying to fight back. Maybe even a little afraid. But not this Growlithe. This thing wasn’t a real Pokémon. It wasn’t afraid. It wasn’t anything. Limply, it hung there, offering no resistance as Pat flung it aside.

Still, Celeste wasn’t taking any chances. “Water Gun!” she shouted. Before the words fully left her mouth, Pat unleashed the blast. A torrent of water shot forward, crashing right into the dog.

It didn’t faint.

The moment the water stopped, the Growlithe dissolved, disintegrating into particles of light. The fragments rose into the sky, merging into the Unown’s swirling ring above them. Just like with the tram, energy gathered above them, slowly growing stronger, denser…

Not good. Not good at all.

Celeste straightened up, forcing a steady exhale, trying to centre herself.

“We’re not so easy to beat. Not anymore,” she said, swiping her hand through the air like she could brush off the tension. She summoned every ounce of bravado she had. “And none of us are very fond of yielding, either.”

Above her, the Unown spun faster, their movements erratic, like something was shifting. But Jude remained silent. So… what now?

“We won,” she called out, eyes locked on the swirling creatures. “Now let us go!”

Bad call?

She wasn’t met with silence this time around.

Jude’s voice cut right through. “There is no leave,” he said, as the Unown’s energy created another Pokéball in his hands. “There is no prize for winning. We offer you a chance to fight until you are spent. The only alternative is for you to cease.”

The energy swirling above her flared, casting long, distorted shadows as the Unown’s sang in eerie, discordant harmony.

“C-Cease…?” Celeste took a step back even though she could not run.

Jude dropped the Pokéball, and in a flash, the light morphed into a Houndour, eyes dead, burning with the same emptiness as the Growlithe before it. “We give you another chance,” Jude said. “Do you yield?”

Celeste bit down on her lip, gaze fixed on the Houndour. Another unevolved Pokémon, another Fire-type. Pat had the advantage with Water Gun. But it was a Dark-type, too…

She shook her head.

It didn’t matter. They could send out freaking Entei into battle for all she cared—she wasn’t about to yield.

“Water Gun!” she shouted.

Jude was faster. “Sucker Punch.”

Celeste winced. Which move was that again—?

Before Pat could gather enough water for his attack, the Houndour blurred into motion. Its Sucker Punch wasn’t a punch at all, more like a dark tackle, faster than she could react. Pat was sent sprawling, splashing into a puddle of his own failed Water Gun.

“Can you do a Yawn, bud?” Celeste called, her eyes darting over the battlefield, desperately searching for an opening. She barely heard Jude’s follow-up—“Bite.” Pat had made strides, but again, speed wasn’t his game, and in this game Houndour was already upon him, jaws filled with pulsing shadows.

So what if he couldn’t dodge in time? He also didn’t flinch. Even as darkness oozed from the bite, Pat stood firm, the Yawn bubble swelling at his lips as he finished the move. And by the time it burst across Houndour’s face, a plan suddenly clicked in Celeste’s mind.

She waited, watching, as the Houndour released Pat and backed up a few steps. It wasn’t disoriented—it clearly didn’t even feel the Yawn. It simply stepped back because that’s what any Pokémon would do in this situation.

“Alright, Pat,” Celeste muttered, “you don’t know Protect” yet, “but what about using Confusion to defend yourself? Focus the psychic energy—spread it in a circle around you, just like the rings the Unown are making. Anything that comes close, you push it back.”

Pat just blinked at her. But ironically, there was no need to worry this time. She focused on his eyes, and she knew this was the right type of blink.

The attack came fast—Houndour’s jaws already filling with darkness. But this time, the move worked like a charm.

Or as well as she could expect, anyway.

On the first charge, Pat’s psychic aura flared, spreading out in a shimmering circle just as Celeste had instructed. Her Slowpoke tried restraining the dog, but it bit through the psychic force, tearing its way forward. Celeste’s breath hitched—then Pat shifted, swishing his tail almost angrily as he shoved the Houndour back before it could land another hit.

It scrambled to its feet and charged again. This time, Pat didn’t even let it get close. A wave of Confusion sent the Houndour tumbling. By the third attempt, Jude’s cold voice echoed across the field, “Long range… Fire….”

Houndour stepped back, flames igniting along its incisors as it launched a blast of fire of some sort. A few of the flames hit Pat, and Celeste saw the pain flash across his face. He was resistant to fire, but the hits were starting to add up.

Still, she smirked, forcing confidence into her voice. “Hang in there, Pat.”

The fire died down after only a moment, and the Houndour swayed on its feet, then collapsing to the ground. Its eyes were shut. Fast asleep. The Unown’s dedication to “realism” was truly impressive—if not hypocritical.

“Finish it,” Celeste called.

She didn’t have to tell Pat twice. He unleashed another Water Gun, drenching the dark fire dog until it too dissolved into particles of light. The fragments floated upward, feeding into the increasingly massive energy ball overhead.

Pat puffed out his chest, panting hard. He couldn’t keep this pace forever, but right now? He had as much bravado as she did.

Keep them coming, she almost said.

“Are you done fighting now?” Jude asked, taking a robotic step forward.

Done?

Celeste was done with everything on this island. But yielding? No. Ceasing? Hell no. And then a cold thought hit her—if she yielded, what would happen to her Pokémon? She wasn’t immune to whatever the Unown were doing, so yielding meant she’d be like Delia and Lori, and Aria and Powder. But Pat and Shy weren’t affected. Would they be left behind? Would they have to cease? Pat could retreat into his Pokéball, but she didn’t have one for Shy. Not anymore.

Her teeth ground together. “Does it look like I’m done?”

Her mind raced. She—and more importantly, Pat—couldn’t keep this up for long. The best option was to run, regroup, fight another day. But how? She was surrounded. Unown circled above her head and around her back. Unless she could sink into the ground itself, there was no way out—

Her eyes shot wide open.

Jude was still talking, something about fighting, yielding, and ceasing. The word cease had a heavier weight now and his tone stayed firmly in that horrible Uncanny Valley spot. But though she knew he was deadly serious, Celeste wasn’t really listening.

Her gaze drifted down to the ground, settling on Shy.

The ghost was attempting to blend in as a normal shadow, but their glowing eyes remained, and the edges of their form flickered, struggling to keep the shape. Shy trembled, though Celeste couldn’t tell if it was from fear, excitement for the battle, or some strange mix of both.

Celeste tapped her foot gently, trying to catch their attention. No response. Not until she whispered their name. “I have another idea,” she muttered. “Can you follow my lead?”

Jude’s voice sliced through her thoughts before she could say more. “We take your silence as a no. If you do not yield, only one option remains.”

Say what now?

When she looked up, another Pokéball was already halfway to the ground. What emerged from the burst of light wasn’t a small fire dog Pokémon this time. This one was different. A lot different. A tall, humanoid figure took shape, its body dark like smouldering coal, glowing red-hot at the edges as if still burning from within. It was clad in a golden armour of some sort, but the shoulder plates weren’t attached—they hovered above its shoulders, as if held in place by sheer force of will. To complete the getup, a long plume of fire blazed from the top of its helmet—or maybe it was part of its head—twisting in the air around them with pure heat.

Either way, that didn’t matter.

It was clearly a Fire-type—that was easy enough to tell. But more than that, it radiated danger. Celeste had no idea what she was up against, but every instinct screamed that this one was trouble.

She didn’t wait for Jude to speak.

“Pat, come closer,” she called. “We need water. I don’t care what, just put as much water as you can make between us and that.” She pointed toward Jude’s new Pokémon, who stood still, flames swirling around its body, waiting for a command. “Shy… just tell me you’re listening,” she whispered.

Shy flickered faintly at her side. Jude was already giving orders to his Pokémon, the words beckoning the rising heat as the ground began to melt around the new Pokémon’s feet. Pat gave Celeste a worried glance. They were way outmatched.

But it didn’t matter. They’d get out. They had to.

“Water, Pat. Loooots of water,” Celeste urged before turning back to her ghost. “How far can you take us?”

Shy wavered, rippling with uncertainty.

“Doesn’t matter…” she muttered, her eyes darting to the mist rising fast around them. Jude had commanded some fire attack, and Pat was already struggling to hold it back. “A few feet’s fine—just get us behind them. As soon as we have enough cover.”

The ghost’s form blurred more, their sides fully trembling now. Celeste bit her lip, watching the battlefield as best as she could through the thickening mist—it was almost ironic that she was using mist, of all things, to run. But anyway. They were running out of time. Fire was spreading, the air getting smoky too.

“I know it’s not much time, and I know you’re tired, but we need you,” Celeste whispered, her voice soft as she spoke to Shy. Just for a moment, though. Then she snapped back to the battle. “Crank it up, Pat!” she shouted, as she took cautious steps backward, heart hammering in her chest.

The battlefield was mostly obscured by the swirling steam now. Through the haze, she could just make out Jude’s Fire-type. It outstretched a burning hand, commanding the flames like extensions of itself. Jude hadn’t asked for anything more complicated, and by the looks of Pat’s heaving breaths and dwindling stream of water, he didn’t need to.

Celeste’s fingers tightened around Pat’s Pokéball. Shy flickered nervously beside her, maybe gathering courage or maybe just gathering strength. She wouldn’t let Pat push himself to the breaking point, but—

She inhaled the thick, humid yet smouldering air. Just a little more.

The Unown above were singing louder now, their energy swelling into a massive, looming orb overhead.

“Please, Shy,” Celeste breathed. A sudden tug on her leg made her glance down. Glowing eyes shining bright from her shadow, filled with a new resolve. They were ready.

This time, it was Celeste who gave the timid nod.

Without a second thought, she turned to the battle, barely able to see through the mist and flames. She pressed the recall button on Pat’s Pokéball.

In an instant, the flames Pat had been holding back surged toward her, heat blasting against her skin, embers scorching her clothes—

Then, before she could get burned, darkness.

The fall was shorter and much more steady this time.

Before she could take a full breath, she was spat back into the world, landing awkwardly in the pristine flower beds just a few feet away.

She stumbled, trying to find her balance, her shadow wrapping around her legs too tightly. “It’ll be alright,” she whispered, barely managing the words as she glanced toward the corner of the building, looking for any cover.

It wasn’t much, but it was all they had.

She rounded the corner—and froze.

Jude was there, waiting by the rose beds—rose beds that hadn’t been there until the Unown “fixed” the building

How? Why? But… she had a plan!

Celeste glanced back to where she had just been. It was as if nothing had happened—no scorch marks, no battle scars, no nothing. The only sign anything had happened at all were the Unown. They were still in formation, gliding slowly through the air, drifting toward her once again.

Running was a beautiful plan. But where could you run on an island?

The Unown swirled fully into view again, their formation spinning like the gears of a clock, winding reality to their will. They made wishes come true—but whose wishes? Fuji’s? Their own? At this point, Celeste was too tired to care. She just watched as they encircled her and the building, the energy they held growing brighter and more menacing with every passing second.

“Do you yield?” Jude’s voice was as flat and lifeless as ever. He approached slowly, his Pokémon walking alongside him, heat radiating from its armour.

Celeste sighed. “I…”

Her gaze drifted up to the armoured creature. It raised its arms, and the floating armour plates on its shoulders began to shift, locking into place around its arm, forming a cannon of some kind. Shy clung to her leg, all the way to her knees.

She couldn’t yield. She couldn’t leave her little ghost to face this alone. She just…

Celeste squared her shoulders, staring down the barrel of the cannon. “I can’t. I won’t.”

Jude nodded, as if he’d expected nothing less. The energy the Unown had been gathering flowed into the Pokémon’s cannon, charging it with a brilliant glow.

“Very well…” he said slowly. “Armarouge, Armor Cannon.”